


I'm Not Going To Leave You Alone

by TeddyBearDoctors



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 13:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyBearDoctors/pseuds/TeddyBearDoctors
Summary: Quentin is having a depressive episode and can't get out of bed, Eliot comforts him





	I'm Not Going To Leave You Alone

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a short thing i wrote at like 1 in the morning when i was also having a depressive time bc Quentin helps me so ya i hope it isn't awful

It’s eating away at him again, gnawing at his insides until he feels sick and chewed up. Quentin should be used to this, spent a large chunk of his life battling depression, but it still gets to him, it still wins sometimes, even with the magic and the new friends and the big giant purpose to his life. It still wins sometimes. It wins by keeping Quentin in bed, missing his classes, and it wins by keeping his stomach empty and his brain wired and numb. It wins and Quentin is just too tired to fight it, staring at the wall, the lights off, and letting his brain spin twisted circles around him.

Sometimes it hits him out of nowhere but Quentin can’t lie and say he didn’t see this coming, didn’t feel the exhaustion creeping up on him for days and that he kept forgetting to eat and losing sleep and skipping class to catch up on homework that he just didn’t have the motivation to do earlier. It was coming and now it’s here and Quentin stays in bed and he knows it’ll pass and he’ll get up and shower and move on but right now all he can think about is how badly he just wants to disappear. Never wake up. Vanish.

Margo checked on him this morning (was it this morning? Maybe last night?) to ask if he had died and that’s why he didn’t go to class. He pretended to be asleep, too tired to even respond to her. She got quiet and just stood in his doorway and Quentin was grateful he couldn’t see her face, that worried and disappointed expression everyone always gives him when he gets bad again. He’s pretty sure Julia has mastered the look without even realizing it. But Margo didn’t turn on the lights, wake him up, and pull him out of bed, she just left and closed the door behind her. Quentin fell back asleep and didn’t wake up till his clock read 11pm, blinking numbers that made him groan and roll over in his mess of blankets.

He can hear people in the halls and downstairs, shouting and laughing, drunken students setting off spells they shouldn’t be using inside. Music is floating in from under his door and Quentin wishes his headphones weren’t across the room. Alcohol sounds like a good idea, the only thing he’s sure his body will accept right now, but he doesn’t have it in him to get up let alone face anyone. Maybe tomorrow, maybe this will be a short episode and he’ll be up tomorrow. Ya, he doesn’t believe it either. He sighs and tries to go back to sleep, his eyelids heavy and his body warm and he just wants to stay unconscious where it’s safe.

There’s a knock at the door and Quentin shoves his face into his pillow, begging the universe and whatever magical gods there are to send this person away and leave him alone. But the universe hates Quentin and the door opens, light flooding in and revealing the depression dungeon that is his room. He knows his room is a mess, weeks without cleaning, forgetting to do laundry, not having it in him to even spell away dishes or garbage or anything, just letting it build up. And he can’t imagine he looks much better, a greasy mop of hair trying it’s hardest to drown in bedding.

“You in there, Coldwater?” Eliot’s voice is soft and Quentin wants to respond but he can’t sum the energy. “Geez don’t you know any basic cleaning spells?” He sounds amused and Quentin loves the sound but he can’t smile, just listens and stares at his blankets. The door closes and the room is plunged into darkness again, Eliot didn’t leave though, Quentin can hear him breathing in the near silence.

“I’m guessing you aren’t sleeping all day because you have the world’s worst hangover,” He sounds almost hopeful, like it really might be a hangover and everything will be ok tomorrow. Quentin hears Eliot walking across the room and then his bed dips, a body sitting behind him.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been hospitalized or medicated, but,” Eliot sighs and Quentin holds his breath, listening desperately. “I know what it’s like to be so exhausted you can’t even talk, sleeping for days and…” He trials off and Quentin breathes out, heart pounding. He’s heard about Eliot’s past before but it still shocks him every time to hear that Eliot wasn’t always the suave and perfectly styled guy he is now, and even more so that he trusts Quentin with this information.

“The point is that you aren’t alone, Q, and if you need to sleep all day, and maybe tomorrow too, that’s ok. I get it.” His voice is warm and Quentin latches onto it, needing to feel something that isn’t his overheating body and his overworked brain.

Quentin expects Eliot to leave after that, running away from a serious moment like he always does but instead the bed dips more and Eliot presses himself against Quentin's back. Quentin freezes, air caught in his lungs, eyes wide.

“El?” Quentin forces himself to speak, the words using up any and all energy he had saved up, his voice rough and quiet.

“I never had someone to stay with me when things got bad, I wish I did and…” He trails off again and Quentin just listens to him breath, heavy and controlled like Eliot is focusing on it as well. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Quentin lets out a breath, shivering and feeling the words hit deep in himself. Eliot moves away for a moment, the blankets lift and cold air hits Quentin but he doesn’t even react before Eliot is pressed up against his pajama clad body and the blanket is keeping them warm again. He doesn’t dare speak, afraid Eliot will run away, too emotional vs desperate to be emotionless. Eliot holds him tight, arms wrapped around his middle and their legs tangled together. Quentin focuses on the warmth of Eliot’s body, his steady breathing and the smell of liquor that hits him every once and awhile when Eliot’s breathing is heavier. Quentin finds himself smiling and gripping onto Eliot’s arms, feeling safe and less alone, warm and cared for and like maybe getting out of bed tomorrow won’t be so impossible.

“We’ll try again tomorrow but it’s ok to sleep right now.” Eliot mumbles, pressing closer, and Quentin lets his eyes close.


End file.
